


The Most Precious Kind

by IAmANonnieMouse



Series: Snake Eyes [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, MurderHusbands, Non-Graphic Violence, Referenced violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: And the bandit that greets you in the nightWith snake eyes, the most precious kind





	The Most Precious Kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FiaMac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiaMac/gifts), [deinvati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deinvati/gifts), [flosculatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosculatory/gifts).



> Fia, flos, and Deinvati and just about everybody asked for a sequel, so here it is haha, have some more _idk, MURDER_ <3

Arthur lives in rhythms. One, two, three, one two, three. Except the rhythms in prison are different. Cough, sniff, clank, clank. Bang, bang, scream, shout. 

Prison is so _noisy,_ so messy. Arthur hates it.

But he waits, adapts. Picks up the new rhythm—one, two, one, two—and sits back. Watches. 

The inmates sneer, call him _baby boy_ and snicker over his young face, his dark hair, his slim build.

 _What you looking at, baby boy?_ they call.

Arthur breathes in, out, in, out—one, two, one, two—and thinks about Eames.

_My sly little snake._

A man comes over, pokes Arthur's exposed back, reaches out for more. Arthur turns, strikes lightning fast— _snap, crackle, pop_ —and teaches the whole prison not to fuck with him. The man howls, screams, whimpers. 

Everyone's so _noisy_ here.

When Arthur gets back to his cell, there's a note waiting for him, tucked between the pages of his borrowed book.

_My viper in the nest._

Arthur reads it once, twice, a third time for luck, then puts it back where he found it.

It's gone the next day.

 

He gains a reputation. _Doesn't play well with others, quick to start fights._

Idiots. Arthur doesn't pick fights. He ends them.

It helps that he enjoys the chaos that follows, the familiar sensation of blood rushing through his veins, between his fingers, down his arm. 

The others don't share his appreciation.

 

Arthur is put in solitary for misusing his plastic spork and not playing well with others. It's the other guy who should be punished, for sticking his hand where it doesn't belong.

 _That's not yours,_ Arthur had thought, and maybe said, snarled, hissed.

The guy functions fine with only one hand. But now Arthur's only allowed to eat with a spoon.

 _No more sharp edges for you,_ they say. _No more slicing and dicing._

Yeah, right.

 

He can't help but look for the notes. Scraps of paper with just a handful of words, tucked in his book, under his mattress, in his clothes.

 _My beautiful darling,_ today's says.

Arthur clutches it in his fist, then carefully puts it back where he found it.

Later, someone tries to take the remote and turn off Arthur's soap opera. Arthur's back in solitary that very night.

 

Arthur is unfamiliar with dreams. Distant, shadowy ghosts that taunt him in the night, showing him what he no longer has. 

In solitary, he dreams of a voice. Hears it curl around the angles of his name and cover the splintered corners, touch the vowels so gently it hurts.

Arthur hates prison, with its bright lights and staccato rhythm and endless noise. But he hates solitary more.

 

The alarm wakes Arthur from a restless sleep, wailing. One, two, one, two. Prison is so fucking _noisy._

Arthur hears the creak of the door hinges, the familiar tread of a thief's feet.

A hand brushes his face, traces his eyes.

"Snake eyes," Eames murmurs over the screeching noise around them. "My sly little snake."

**Author's Note:**

> Wish me luck on my exam tonight! I posted this instead of studying more for it ;D


End file.
